


today is my birthday & i’m riding high (i’m little but i’m coming for the crown)

by possibilist



Series: Fool's Gold Carmilla HSAU Deleted Scenes [7]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilist/pseuds/possibilist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fool's Gold Chapter 13 deleted scenes, or the one where Laura & Carmilla & Papa Hollis are all just kind of happy about Laura being 16. And wish her mom could be there to see it.</p><p>"You smile—it’s your sixteenth birthday, and the two people alive that you care about the most in the world are here to spend it with you, and that’s really cool, all things considered."</p>
            </blockquote>





	today is my birthday & i’m riding high (i’m little but i’m coming for the crown)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatsthedamage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsthedamage/gifts).



> olivia & bianca ask me to do these for fun. i did not come up with hsau. i am not interjecting my own issues into these fics. i make no money from these. i do not encroach on the timeline nor advance the narrative. they tell me which scenes to put in. i add little details. the scenes are canon.

**today is my birthday & i’m riding high (i’m little but i’m coming for the crown)**

.

_hair is dripping, hiding that i'm terrified / but this is summer, playing dumber than in fall / everything i say falls right back / Into everything i'm not / In the swing of things / but what i really mean is / not in the swing of things yet  
_ —lorde, ‘still sane’

//

You wake up with your face buried in Carmilla’s hair, which, despite the fact that she got ice spilled on her, smells  _amazing._ You smile for a few seconds at her easy, peaceful breaths, but then you sigh and gently untangle yourself from her, and you look at your phone. It’s 8:42 am, which really isn’t that early, and so you know your dad is already awake. You smile—it’s your sixteenth birthday, and the two people alive that you care about the most in the world are here to spend it with you, and that’s really cool, all things considered.

You put your phone down and look at what you can see of Carmilla’s face—her perfect cheekbones and unblemished skin and long, dark eyelashes, her perfect eyebrows. Your whole body hurts when you remember that someone  _hurts_ her, hurts her in ways that bruise everywhere, that gave her a black eye and cuts in her hairline, and you  _know_ it’s happened for a while.

So you curl into Carmilla for another few minutes—your dad can wait—and then kiss the back of her neck before getting up.

You don’t bother changing out of your pajamas and you go down the stairs, and your dad is drinking coffee at the table, and there’s a pretty decently-sized and sort of clumsily wrapped box in front of him, and you see that he’s planning on making pancakes—with sprinkles, a birthday tradition for as long as you can remember—and he grins and springs up when he sees you.

“Happy birthday,” he says, and then wraps you in one of the best hugs for a long time. 

His eyes are a little shiny, like yours, when you back up, but he’s grinning and he gestures toward the table.

“I’ve decided that since you’re now very officially old, you can open your present before we make pancakes.”

You laugh and sit down at the table and he slides the present over to you and you rip the paper off and grin when you see it is, indeed, a laptop.

“Thank you, Dad,” you say, and you fling yourself over the corner of the table to hug him again.

He laughs. “So it’s okay? The sales guy said this is versatile and has a lot of memory.”

It’s a  _really nice_ laptop, and you know it was probably pretty expensive. “It’s great, I promise.”

“Good,” he says. He claps his hands and stands up. “Now, how about some birthday pancakes.”

You laugh and nod and put on your official apron with a good natured roll of your eyes.

“Is Carmilla still asleep?” he asks, mixing some batter.

“Yeah, she was tired from yesterday and we were up kinda late anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Dad,” you say, almost forgetting that you had a large bowl of sprinkles in your hand but catching it before they go everywhere, “she got me a camera. Like, a  _really nice_ camera.”

He grins, and you kind of wonder what exactly he’s thinking, but you know he thinks Carmilla is great, so. “That’s wonderful.”

You nod. “She said it was for journalism stuff, and, like, you know, sometimes people think it’s silly or whatever—not you, and not Mom, you know—but like, Carm doesn’t think it’s silly either.”

He smiles at the batter, gently, and you feel really glad for hem both.

“I think Mom would’ve really liked Carmilla,” he says.

You strangely hadn’t thought about that really yet, but it makes your chest ache so much, because she would’ve, and how could any mom not love Carmilla? “Yeah,” you say, “Carm is a really special person.”

Your dad pours a few pancakes onto the pan and then pulls you into a one armed hug. “Mom would’ve been so proud of how well you’ve grown up.”

You feel tears burning in your eyes, and you don’t try to stop them.

“I know I’m not always the best dad, and sometimes I can’t understand what you’re going through, and I don’t always know the right words for things, but—when I look at you, I think that even with my mistakes, you’re the best thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.”

“Dad,” you say, and you hug him fully.

“And I know Mom would feel the same, more every day.”

You sniffle and nod, and he rubs your back.

After a while, you smell something, though, and you back up with a little laugh. “The pancakes are burning,” you say, and he laughs and wipes his eyes, hurriedly flipping them.

They’re a little burnt, but you figure they’re not so bad, and you’ll eat them anyway, all things considered.

Especially with the right amount of sprinkles.

//

You’re still kind of worried about Carmilla, because she’d had a little bit of a rough day yesterday, for whatever reason, but Carmilla sleeping late really isn’t something that you stress about too much—if she’s up by 10 am, especially not on a school day, you’re surprised. Thankfully, her sleeping habits haven’t really rubbed off on Laura, and Carmilla seems like, actually, a really, really good influence on her, despite the fact that you’d been a little wary at first—but only for about fifteen minutes, because after that you’d seen how careful Carmilla was with Laura, even if they bickered, and you were happy.

It’s a big day, too, for you, because Laura is, without a doubt, the best part of your life, and your heart aches on her birthdays more than most days, because you wish more than anything that Lily could see her, because Laura is one of the best people you’ve ever known. You know you’re a good guy, even when you don’t always know exactly what to do, you just try to be accepting and loving and compassionate, but most of that, really, you’d learned from Lily.

And Laura, who is sitting next to you sleepily, waiting for Carmilla to come down from a shower, laughing at a rerun of Dr. Who, is so much like Lily; she has Lily’s eyes, Lily’s hair, her laugh—but mostly, her kindness and her bravery and the fact that she has more passion about people, helping them and telling their stories, than most people in the world.

You’re  _so_ proud of her, and there’s a part of you that kind of wants to sit Carmilla down and tell her these things very sternly, but—maybe later.

But Carmilla traipses down the stairs, and looks at Laura so warmly that you figure maybe you won’t have to.  “I heard there was cake,” she says, “which is great, because I  _love_ cake for breakfast.”

Laura laughs and stands, hugs Carmilla tight for a second, and you think she might smell her, which makes you want to chuckle, and then takes Carmilla by the hand and leads her to the kitchen, and you follow.

“Okay, Laura,” you say, putting sixteen candles into the top of the cake carefully before striking a match. Carmilla clears her throat and takes a deep breath, but then she smiles a little shakily at Laura and says, “Know what you’re gonna wish for, cupcake?”

Laura nods. “Yep, and I can’t tell  _either_ of you, because then it wouldn’t come true, and I really want for it to come true, so you’ll just have to make up the wishes in your heads.”

“Probably something focused on feminism,” Carmilla says, and Laura splutters a laugh.

You smile and finish off the candles, and then you look at Carmilla. “Ready?”

Carmilla rolls her eyes but she nods, and you start, as loudly as possible, singing  _Happy Birthday to you._

Carmilla looks a little embarrassed, and Laura looks mortified, because you’re pretty much tone deaf, but then Carmilla joins in quietly, and Laura’s eyes get a little big, and even though you can barely hear her, kid’s apparently got a set of pipes.

When you’re done, Laura claps her hands and holds back her hair, then leans over the cake and blows out all of the candles in one very large and desperate breath.

Carmilla laughs and you clap Laura on the back, then take out the candles and cut three pieces, and you all sit down.

Carmilla takes a bite and then moans a little, and Laura coughs a little around the bite she has in her mouth, and you laugh when Carmilla says, “This is excellent birthday cake, Mark.”

“Thanks, Carmilla,” you say, and she takes another bite with a thumbs up.

You start telling one of your favorite stories about Laura—when she was seven she was going to stand on a stool to get ready to blow out her candles, but she tripped and ended up just completely face planting into the cake, and Carmilla bursts into laughter and then looks at Laura fondly, who’s blushing harder than maybe you’ve ever seen.

“Hold on,” you say, “I’m sure we have pictures somewhere.”

You’re searching in the next room for the correct photo album when you hear Laura laugh  _hard_ and Carmilla say and indignant, “ _Laura_ ,” and when you walk back in, Carmilla has cake smudged pretty much  _all over_ the bottom of her face, and Laura is doubled over with laughter.

“Now you know how it felt,” Laura says, and Carmilla glares, but it’s not a real glare.

Carmilla shakes her head but she can’t help but break into a smile at Laura’s laughter, then run a finger along her chin. Laura’s eyes get big when she sucks it into her mouth, and you laugh and go back to try to find the pictures; Carmilla will get a kick out of them.

//

What Laura doesn’t know is that you’ve seen  _Finding Nemo_ and  _inordinate_ number of times because it’s one of Will’s all-time favorite movies—which is so dorky, you can’t even bring yourself to tell anyone, because you do want will to have  _some_ friends—so when Laura holds up the DVD hopefully, you sigh and shrug. 

“It’s your birthday, buttercup.”

She squeals and flings her arms around you, and it hurts a little but you’re so glad that there are moments Laura forgets how hurt you are.

She sticks the movie in the DVD player and leads you to the couch. You make it until Nemo’s mom gets killed before Laura snuggles into your side—you get that, at least, so you wrap your arm around her, and she sighs—and then, mortifyingly, you start to fall asleep, and Laura smiles gently and then scoots away from you and pats her lap. You’re too tired—which is pathetic, but you haven't slept well in a while—to even protest, and plus, no one is here but Laura, so you lie down and Laura starts to run her fingers through your hair.

You try to stay awake, though, so you start saying lines from the film—you know all of them, but you won’t tell her that—and she laughs more and more each time.

“How many times have you seen this?” she asks after you cut off a yawn to do (admittedly, your favorite)  _Fin, noggin, dude_.

“More than you ever want to know,” you say, and she scratches your scalp with a happy little noise. 

You make it to  _Turn on the ring of fire!_  before you actually nod off a little bit, which is pretty good, all things considering, because usually with Laura playing with your hair you make it about fifteen minutes before you’re asleep, and you wake up pretty quickly after that and force yourself to sit up, because you’re just going to nap through the entire thing if you don’t.

Laura frowns, though, and she leans into your side again. You smile and kiss the top of her head and wrap an arm around her again, and you say, “Did you know this could be classified as a Bildungsroman?”

“What?”

“It’s a coming of age story, one could argue,” you say, “for Nemo, which is called, in some cases, a Bildungsroman.”

“You’re so weird,” she says.

You laugh. “There are worse things to be.”

“Smart,” she amends, “but weird. Good weird, though.”

“Wow, stop with the compliments already.”

She laughs and sort of rubs her head against your neck in a little  _nuzzle_ , which, despite yourself, you  _love_.

“Bildungsroman, huh?”

“Thank me when you get it right on your SATs.”

She grins and then excitedly says,  _P Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney_ , and you can’t help but join in the next time. 

Besides, there are a few things you know by heart, after all, and Laura’s delighted laugh is becoming one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> check out carmilla's hsau, fool's gold, on ao3 or tumblr. track the tag [#carmilla hsau] for general updates, fanart, answered asks, & lots of other cool stuff. bianca's tumblr is felixdawkins; olivia's is turnandchasethewind.
> 
> new fool's gold chapters are posted every tuesday & thursday at 5-6 pm EST.  
> deleted scenes for every chapter are released every wednesday & friday at 8-10 am EST.


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